


And He Will Take Care of You

by TheRothwoman



Series: Characters as Coping Mechanisms [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Depression, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Support, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, In Which Bucky Is That Animated Pill From the Abilify Commercial, Mental Health Issues, Reader-Insert, you know the one
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-10
Updated: 2016-07-10
Packaged: 2018-07-22 17:16:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7447435
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheRothwoman/pseuds/TheRothwoman
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When you wake up it’s 6 o’clock, and he’s there. He’s always there when you need him, so you must need him. He looks down at you with sorrowful eyes, metal arm gleaming in the setting sunlight, and brushes the hair out of your face.</p><p>“Hey,” he says, putting a hand on your shoulder, “I’m worried about you. Please take a shower. Please eat.”</p><p>(For anyone who's been in a bad place and needed a Bucky Barnes to hug them and tell them it's going to be okay.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	And He Will Take Care of You

**Author's Note:**

> I recently wrote a personal essay about how Bucky, and writing about him, has helped me through a difficult time in my life (http://hannahjrothman.com/2016/07/09/my-bucharest/) and I decided to go the whole hog and share that love with those who might need it too. Ostensibly, this is pure self-indulgence and a little break from the next long (just broke 10k) fic I'm writing about Bucky. But I know there are others out there who'll get something out of this. Take care, friends.

It’s not a good day. There haven’t been good days in a while. Things changed. Weeks ago you lost your job, and now you’re losing your first apartment. You’re going to have to go back home, to square one. You were already sinking into a bad place, coming home from work with no energy at the end of every day, forgetting your medication. Unfulfilled and alone, now you can go days without brushing your teeth or a week without showering. You skip meals sometimes. Today you managed to run an errand: there were some books you needed to return to the library. But you’re still in bad shape.

You get back to the apartment. It’s only 3 o’clock in the afternoon. You got out of bed at 1:30, but you’re already set to go down for a nap. You settle down on your bed, put on a favorite podcast, and go back to sleep. When you wake up it’s 6 o’clock, and he’s there. He’s always there when you need him, so you must need him. He looks down at you with sorrowful eyes, metal arm gleaming in the setting sunlight, and brushes the hair out of your face.

“Hey,” he says, putting a hand on your shoulder, “I’m worried about you. Please take a shower. Please eat.” You manage to get out of bed and he leaves you alone for a bit, alone to strip down and get your bathrobe on so you can go shower. It’s been almost two weeks. It does feel nice, being clean again. You’re still hungry, though, but in the way that only your body is hungry. Your stomach growls but your brain doesn’t want to put food in your body. He comes in and opens the freezer.

“Look,” he says. “Here’s a bag of that sweet potato gnocchi you like. Just put it on a plate and stick it in the microwave, that’s easy, right?” You avert your gaze at first, but you can tell he’s making those sad kitten eyes at you. It’s not to evoke a reaction from you either, he just really is that concerned for you. “Please eat something,” he asks. “It’s been forty-eight hours and you’ve only had a milkshake and some crackers. C’mon, I’ll sit with you.” You heat up the bag after all. It’s hardly a balanced meal, but it’s arguably better than what you’ve been eating. You offer him a few bites, which he accepts. It feels like one of the few times you’ve enjoyed eating in days. You finish and rinse the plate, leaving it in the sink. You’ll do dishes later. Eventually. He gets you your meds and a glass of water, which you take. A faint bitter aftertaste lingers on your tongue.

“There,” he says. “How do you feel now, better?” You nod a little while waving your hand noncommittally. “Okay, good, that’s something.” He puts his hands on your shoulders, looking at you like you’re a fleck of gold. “You know I just want you to be happy, right?” You look down. In the grand scheme of things, you’re not happy. You’re barely taking care of yourself and you feel like a failure. You’re an adult. But you don't feel ready. You have to be. But you can’t. Sometimes you just get too tired. Sometimes you just want someone to take care of you for a bit. He reaches up with his flesh and blood hand and cups your face in it, stroking your cheek gently with his thumb. You lean into his touch. It’s so gentle, despite everything he’s been through. You wish you could draw that kind of strength from your hardships. As though he’s read your mind, he says “I know you can be strong. You’ve made it this far, haven’t you?” He’s right.

But in that moment, you don’t want to be strong. Your face crumples and you lean forward, burying yourself in his chest and weeping openly into his shirt. You hold onto him as tight as you can as he wraps his arms around you and gives you a loving squeeze, resting his face in your hair and humming softly. His metal arm is surprisingly warm and feels like a heating pad through your clothes. He rocks you gently, swaying back and forth and stroking your back with his right hand.

“Shhhshhshhh, it’s okay, I understand,” he croons, just above a whisper. “You’re in a dark place right now, and that’s nothing to be ashamed of. It happens to the best of us. You’re gonna come out of this just fine, okay? You were starting a new life, and if you can do it once you can do it again. Loss isn’t always forever.” The word “loss” unsettles something in you and suddenly you find yourself begging him not to go, not to leave you when you need him most. “Woah, hey,” he says, and you can feel the smile against you. “Who said I was going anywhere? Nah, I’m staying. I’ll be here as long as you need me. And even if I do leave, I can always come back.” He presses a kiss to the top of your head and pats your back several times before saying “C’mon, I know you’ve had enough sleep today, but let’s go lie down. We can listen to that new podcast episode together.”

He wraps you up in your favorite blanket, 100% polyester and incredibly soft, and cuddles you on the couch. You bring up the new podcast episode on your phone and for the next two hours you rest cradled in his arms, listening to the easy chatter of two guys talking about computers and flags and books. He strokes your arm and periodically kisses you on the head, keeping you warm as the sun goes down and the faint chill of the night creeps in. He’s so kind and encouraging and he’s just what you need right now.

He’ll be here as long as you need him. And he will take care of you.


End file.
